


Sweeter than Sugar

by anniespinkhouse



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blood Kink, Coercion, Dark fic, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Knife Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a ruthless debt collector for the mob. Jensen is the owner of a little bakery, who owes money that he doesn't have. Jared offers an alternative payment method.</p><p>Written for this prompt at spn-otp-kink:  'Jared is a debt-collector for a ruthless crimeboss. Jensen is the owner of a little bakery not being able to pay. Jared might make an exception and let Jensen pay in other ways.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter than Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is fiction, pure fantasy folks. Nobody here belongs to me and they’re not likely to get in my van for candy any time soon.

 

Jared doesn’t usually get out of bed for anything less than half a million. He’s got a reputation as large as his 6’4” and ripped frame, and he’s earned the trust of his boss and the grudging respect of his peers. When people call him a killer, it’s not a metaphor or over-exaggeration. 

Dead people can’t pay their debts though, so Jared is not afraid to use his notoriety, his muscle, and his inventive mind to encourage payment of money into the twisted coffers of his boss’s organization.

Jared is on the up and up, and one day soon he will be at the table with the most powerful men in the City. Until then, he has a weakness. Well actually two; Jared has a sweet tooth and a partiality for pretty men with fearful eyes. The Black Cat Bakery, a relatively new business on Wilks Street, happens to provide both of those. Jared gets hot under the collar just thinking about the owner, Jensen Ackles, with his wide, green eyes, in a face of perfect symmetry, set off with plump, pink, lips. Oh yes, it is no coincidence that Jared is slipping through the rear entrance of the small business, at six in the morning, for an outstanding balance of 20K.

The collector smirks, slides off his shades, and checks his knife. His driver waits in the street but he’s doing this job alone. After all, it took Jared some serious string-pulling to engineer the financial situation that Jensen Ackles is in, and he isn’t keen to share the benefits.

He strides through the kitchen and his stomach rumbles at the aroma of fresh baked bread and vanilla sugar. Jared knows it’s just Jensen and his assistant, Alona, in the building this early, so he steadies his pace; lets him sweat. He watches Jensen’s eyes widen in horror as he notices Jared’s approach and he doesn’t rush to prevent him from pushing Alona out of the front door of the shop, begging her to stay away and tell nobody that Jared Padalecki was here.

 _Sensible man_ , thinks Jared. It’s endearing how much Jensen Ackles cares about his staff, friends and family, and it makes him so, _so_ , easy to manipulate.

Jared’s designer boots click against the tiled bakery floor. He’s an attractive man, he’s been told, and he can take any number of willing partners to his bed with a coy look, intelligent conversation and puppy eyes. _Oh, no, he’s not just muscle_ , but today is not about that. Jared had flirted with Jensen back when the baker first set up on the East side, and Jensen must have known who Jared was, who owned the turf that his little bakery nestled on, yet Jensen had had the gall to turn Jared down, like he was nothing but dirt on his shoe. Today Jared is going to get what he wants, and he is going to enjoy it. He straightens his shoulders and his eyes glitter with menace as he enters the shop area.

“We’re not open yet,” Ackles says, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he wipes his sweaty hands on his apron. He’s not fooling anyone with his bravado, least of all Jared.

Jared's knife gleams under the clean shop lights. He grips it with long elegant fingers, and casually vaults over the counter to within an inch of where Jensen is backed-up against rows of display shelves. Jared can almost hear the man’s heart thumping in his chest. It’s a hell of a turn-on, but he will get Jensen firmly hooked and reel him in slowly. It’s so much sweeter that way. He raises his knife, and in one sweeping movement, stabs it downwards. Jensen Ackles holds his breath and locks his green eyes onto Jared’s hazel stare; he flinches but he doesn’t cower. It’s not heroic, but it’s bolder than most. Jared’s eyebrows raise involuntarily,

The knife cuts easily into its target and there’s an ooze of red, as strawberry jam explodes from a sticky tart and stains its cream topping. The tart sticks to his blade as Jared raises it to his mouth and he pokes his tongue out to lick the confection, circling its diameter and then pressing in, with deliberate sexual innuendo.

A gasp escapes Ackles’ plush lips as he sags, letting the shelving support him. He tries to speak, but words don’t form properly, “I’m sorry, just a little more time, the insurance…,”

Jared shushes Jensen with a sticky finger on his lips, “Don’t lie,” he snarls, “I hate liars. It would ruin the moment, and this cake is delicious.”

Jared eats slowly, chews with suggestive little moans, and licks his wide lips to a shine. When he’s finished there’s a coating of sweet stuff that remains on his knife. He regards it thoughtfully, and gives a rattle-snake grin. “I happen to know that your insurance company won’t be paying out for the vandalism or burglary that your business claims to have experienced. You have no significant assets and you’re maxxed out with loans. You don’t have the money you owe us, and you won’t be getting it. Such a pity. I thought this place had potential.”

Jensen clutches at straws. His deep drawl trembles as he speaks, “We can make it successful, work longer hours, there’s a new line of specialty cakes…,”

Jared draws close and Jensen isn’t small; to an ordinary person he will seem tall and well built, but Jared looms over him. He leans down to speak in his ear, “My boss has been very generous already. I almost never give anyone a third chance, and yet this is my fourth official visit. Oh, Jensen. It is _very_ disappointing.” He tuts and shakes his head.

Red jam drips from his sharp blade as Jared twists it close to Jensen’s cheek. The baker is breathing fast, and his freckles are stark against his shocked pale face. Jared can smell the fear in the perspiration that beads on Jensen’s brow.

“You’re lucky. I like your cakes. I like your pretty head. Your girl Alona won’t miss a kidney, and neither will your sweet sister and niece. It will recoup our losses.”

Jensen’s eyes fill with tears. It makes them sparkle, _exquisite_ , thinks Jared, _like emeralds_.

Jared growls malevolently, “It’s only a little incision,” and with a sudden flick of his hand his blade slices a fine trail of blood on Jensen’s well-defined cheek.

Jensen emits a squeak as he bites back a scream and he glares defiantly at the mobster. Wine-red streaks appear on his face, trail and drip over his jaw. Jared wants to lick it up, to taste iron and salt over the roughness of morning scruff. Instead he stretches out the tip of his little finger from around his knife and wipes it through the bloody mess, before deftly sucking his finger between his lips and tasting it, swirling the blood in his mouth like fine wine. Years of weapons use, means he doesn’t poke anyone’s eye out with his knife, but he knows it looks dramatic.

Jensen looks disgusted and horrified. For a man in his early thirties he’s amusingly innocent.

Jared continues his proposal, “They will live. We may even throw in ice and stitches. Yes?”

“No! They’re not involved. You can take my kidney, my blood, whatever you need. Please, please, anything.” Jensen sinks to his knees at Jared’s feet.

He sneers at Jensen while his whole body thrills at seeing him beg. This is so worth the trouble he has gone to. “I’d like to help you Jensen but you’re what? Thirty-four? There’s no market for your body parts…” he pauses for effect, to let the helplessness set in, then raises an eyebrow and looks Jensen over appraisingly, “…except, maybe…ah, no,” he acts dismissive, and turns on his heel, as if to go.

Jensen’s hand snakes out to grab Jared’s fingers, Jared crinkles his nose and shakes him off.

“Please? Tell me what I can do. Anything. Just give them a chance. I can’t do that to people who helped me. They trust me. I took out the loan, and I got into this mess, not them. Kill me, cut off my arm, whatever you have to do, but don’t touch them. I’m begging you.” He’s earnest in his plea, a good man, protecting the people around him.

Jared stills. He has Ackles dangling on his hook. “Hmm. Anything?”  He looks thoughtful. He studies Jensen silently, undresses him with his eyes, lets him squirm. Jensen’s pride has evaporated, and tears glisten on his lashes. _Fuck that is sexy._

“Strip!” he demands.

Jensen looks around the interior of the shop and at its wide glass windows with an expression of disbelief. “What here?”

_Oh, he really is precious._

“Yes, of course here!” Jared kicks Jensen’s knee with the tip of his shoe. “I may as well see if you have anything worth my time. Stand up and strip.”

Jensen trembles as he tugs his tee-shirt over his head. His flour-dusty hair tousles as it drags, held back by the apron that he had forgotten about. He blushes as he struggles to reveal a firm chest and abs, and perfect, pert nipples.

Jared licks his lips. “And the rest. All of it.”

Jensen grips the zipper of his pants before seemingly coming to a decision and stripping rapidly, kicking his pants and boxer briefs off into a hurried pile, and clutching his arms around himself in a vain attempt to hide from his debt-collector’s stare.

“No! Put your hands behind your head. I need to see what I get.”

Jensen sets his jaw and lowers his eyes, but he does as he is told. The bakery is warm, but Jared can see goose bumps dotted over his skin. Fear and humiliation radiate from Ackles and Jared’s cock chubs in his pants. He openly palms at it while leering at what is undoubtedly his latest toy. Jensen isn’t as young as he normally likes, but he is the most beautiful man that Jared has ever had the opportunity to play with.

“Pretty,” Jared murmurs, “But do you have skill?”

“S-s-skill? I d-don’t know what you mean…,” Jensen stutters miserably.

“Of course you do, Jenny.”

There’s a brief expression of anger that crosses Jensen’s features, and Jared notes the reaction for later use, Jensen doesn’t like to be called Jenny.

“Never mind. If you don’t want my help I’ll let the boss know you can’t pay, and someone will call on your sister’s childminder.” He shrugs and pats his pocket for his cell phone.

Jensen’s gaze shifts up to the bulge in Jared’s pants. He grits his teeth and squeezes his fingernails into the palms of his hands until they have to be leaving marks. “No! I know you want me. I can do whatever you want!  I can suck your cock. You can fuck me. Just don’t hurt them.”

Jared strokes his chin, pretends to take his time to consider the proposition. He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. Eventually he sucks a noisy breath and offers his bloodied, creamy and sugary blade to Jensen, a hair’s breadth from his parted lips.

“Lick it clean. Show me how talented your tongue is.”

Jensen squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, then opens them again, deep green and concentrated. The tip of his tongue pokes through his lips and the pearl of his teeth is visible. He laps delicately at the edge of lethal steel and cake coats his tongue red and white, like blood and come. He’s tentative in every movement. The fear that his tongue could be severed is evident in his stiffly held head and tightly clenched fingers. Still, he remembers his audition and moans like a porn star. He circles his lips with the shine of saliva between each lick.

_Oh yeah, Jared can work with this._

Jared withdraws the knife, wipes it on a tissue and replaces it in its sheath. “Adequate,” he scoffs. “Now, kneel! Don’t put your hands down, I might think you’re going to run, and that would be a very bad thing.”

Jensen surrenders, crumples back to his knees. He worries at his lower lip, chewing so hard that Jared thinks he might draw blood. He wouldn't mind that at all.

Jensen’s short strawberry-blond hair is surprisingly soft when Jared brushes his fingers through it, grabs it tight and pulls the man’s head back to look directly at his crotch. He feathers his fingers over Jensen’s injured cheek, making sure to dig into the wound, to revel in the warm slick of blood and paint it down Jensen’s face, mingling it with salt tears, before grabbing his chin and holding it firmly in one hand. He makes sure he has eye contact. “I have no use for a whore who uses his teeth,” Jared warns, and there it is again, a brief flash of defiance, quickly hidden behind Jensen’s humiliation. Even if Jensen gives the worst blow-job he’s ever had, Jared knows he will be offering a deal; training him to proper submission promises to be so much fun.

Jared’s dick is already hard when he eases it from his pants. He holds it to Jensen’s lips, circling them slowly, leaving a trail of glistening pre-come which he tells him to lick. It makes such a pretty picture. In fact…Jared grins and roots with his other hand, for his iPhone.

“Smile for Instagram,” he smirks, and snaps a shot of Jensen, kneeling, looking up at him, with his lips on the head of Jared’s cock, “Boss needs to know he’s getting value,” he adds. He won’t send the picture, but Jensen doesn’t have to know it.

Jensen manages to flush an even deeper shade of red and his shoulders slump in defeat. He gives an angry glare as he opens his mouth wide, and Jared braces himself, ready to punish Jensen for the suggestion of a bite, but the man sucks him, just a little roughly and bobs down over the length, as if trying to re-enact a porn movie, while his every muscle is tense and quivering. He slurps and coughs as Jared deliberately pushes at an awkward angle, stretching the inside of Jensen’s cheek and then bumping the back of his throat.

Jared wants to laugh; it is amateur, and Jensen’s fury is evident. A little hate sex doesn’t harm for now, but Jensen will have to do better in future. “Here!” Jared’s patience is wearing thin. There will be ample opportunity to take his time in the coming weeks. He yanks Jensen’s hair to manipulate his head to where he wants him, pulls and pushes so the perfect lips slide over his length. “Suck it down. You’re going be my little slut if you want me to pay your debt. Do you think you can whore properly? Or do we have to find some second rate doctor to operate on your niece?”

Tears and snot slide down Jensen’s face. He coughs and sniffs as he tries to keep up with Jared fucking his face. His soft mouth convulses around Jared’s thick, veined cock and his tongue trembles and slicks it.

“Good boy,” Jared’s tone softens as his pleasure increases, and the praise is genuine, he is sure that Jensen will prove to be a very good boy for him eventually. He doesn’t deep-throat Jensen this time, he needs to take care not to panic him so much that he flees. He wouldn’t relish the extra effort he would have to go to in hunting down and punishing Jensen’s loved ones. Twenty thousand isn’t worth the trouble. Besides, he has been anticipating this moment for months now. The thrill of power, even before the velvet warm slide of Jensen’s lips and the vacuum of his mouth, was intoxicating, and he can’t hold off his orgasm for long, even with this half-hearted blow job.

With a final thrust, Jared buries his dick deep in Jensen’s mouth, and holds him firmly in place as he chokes. “If you want to earn your money you swallow, like a decent whore,” he manages to groan as he floods the man’s mouth with come, making him gag.

He can see Jensen’s struggle to swallow without vomiting, and the way he turns an interesting shade of green-tinged ivory. The moment that he gulps it down, with a scrunched nose and shudder of disgust, is sweeter than sugar. Jared decides to forgive Jensen for his grimace and the way he wipes his lips on the back of his hand, just this once.

Jared uses Jensen’s apron to clean himself up and tucks his soft dick back into his pants before rubbing a hand through his unruly long hair. He is relaxed – on an orgasm high - but he is a cautious man, and not about to take chances. “Hands behind your head,” he reminds, and Jensen obeys.

“Is that it? Will you come back next month for the rest?” Jensen’s voice is small and hoarse.

Jensen’s question amuses Jared and he gives a whole body laugh.

“Oh! Jenny! That was just the negotiation. What whore earns 10K for a blow job, and a poor one at that?”

Terror flickers in the beautiful green eyes, “But Alona, my family…”

“Ssh, they will be safe. We simply have to assign services and a price. Hm? The going rate is something like 1K per night for a high class prostitute. Now, you are not that, but I am prepared to be generous. Let’s say you are mine, to do whatever I want with, with the exception of any permanent disability, for a thousand a night. Six until six, leaves you plenty of time to make sure your business doesn’t suffer. That’s twenty one nights, and then you’re paid up and free to go. I’ll even waive most of the interest if you start tonight.”

Jensen looks at the ground with a little shaking movement of his head. Jared knows he’s trying to think of something that will end his nightmare, and he also knows there isn’t any alternative.

An oven buzzes in the background, signalling that a batch of bread is cooked.

“Better hurry up and decide Jenny, or your bread will be ruined and today’s profits will be lost.”

Jensen’s shoulders shrug. His lip quivers and his eyes fill. He nods. “Okay,” Jensen whispers his capitulation.

“Have to do better than that,” Jared says, making sure to play with his knife in its sheath.

“Yes. Twenty-one nights. You get twenty-one nights, starting tonight.” Jensen spits the words bitterly.

Jared backhands him, and Jensen loses his balance, crumpling with his hands flat to the floor. Jared takes the opportunity to grab his wrists and haul him up, to speak in his face, distinct and threatening. He is an expert at this.

“I am saving your ass, Jensen Ackles. You’re mine for twenty-one nights and you will be my obedient little bitch. I will not tolerate rudeness from you. I am going to leave now, and you should get dressed and open shop as usual. You won’t even think of running, because if you do I will hunt down your family and friends and make them wish they had never known you. I will reserve your punishment for last.”

Jensen nods again.

“That’s yes sir, to you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen speaks through gritted teeth, while gulping for air.

Jared ruffles Jensen’s hair. “That’s the spirit.”

Jensen reaches for his tee-shirt and starts to pull it over his head. He turns his back to Jared, to hide his face. Jared gets to admire his wonderful firm and round ass instead. He thinks it only needs the red flush of a thorough spanking to make it absolutely perfect.

There’s time for one final taunt before Jared is on his way, “I’ll send my car for you. Don’t fuss about going home to change. You won’t be needing clothes.” He retrieves his shades and slides them on. “Oh, and Jenny…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Bring cakes.”

He leans over the counter to grab a pink-iced doughnut before striding out of the front door with the ting-a-ling of the bell. He gets into the car that is waiting for him. Its tinted windows hide his face from the public and its engine purrs as it pulls away from the curb.

Jared beams, dimple wide. “I fucking love that bakery,” he says to his driver, with a mouth full of sticky sweet dough.

 

 

 

~end~


End file.
